


Cabin Fever

by Xeensbin



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Drama & Romance, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Gen, Horror, Slow Build, Slow Burn, such as murder and angry mobs, typical slasher issues, you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-11 14:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeensbin/pseuds/Xeensbin
Summary: In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My first chapter of a Jason story that’s been weighing heavily on my mind as of late. I hope you all enjoy it! This first chapter is mostly exposition, but, set up is necessary for stories at times don’t you think?

You had visited the cabin up at Crystal Lake with your father every winter for as long as you could remember. Despite it belonging to his employer up until the most recent months, it felt like home. The smell of moss and freshly chopped wood made your senses more at ease than the scent of smog and churning machinery. Most of your days were spent tending to the cabin’s upkeep as well as the maintenance of the garden in its backyard. You feel selfish and, perhaps, a bit egotistical in admitting that you had always known that it would find its way into your possession one way or another.

You feel less remorseful than you should, though, in knowing that it took two deaths for you to be able to receive it.

The first was the original owner of the cabin. Your father’s boss had always been a man of delicate emotional standing. After his wife had fallen ill and decided it better to take control of her own life by driving her car off of a cliff, he had tried his hardest to move on and continue with the job turned duty of living to carry on her memory. It was your father who had originally suspected that the man would not last longer than a year. Grimly, you could only agree with him and wait. When both of you were proven right, you were surprised again to see that the cabin had been left to your father in the other man’s will, calling him a brother amongst employees and thanking him for his support in trying times. That had been the first and only time you had seen your father cry. Tears of emotion like runs of rain etched in canvas lining down his face. The sight had made you cry too.

When your father died you had also expected this, but, that did not make it any less heart wrenching. The blood cancer that had plagued him for the later years of his life caught up to him in one fell swoop, sending him to a hospital where he died not days later. You couldn’t remember crying as hard as you did in the hospital room that night when the doctor’s pronounced him officially dead. You still had his obituary report tucked away in the pages of a sketchbook, taped against a canvas of nightmare doodles and eldritch terrors. The knowledge of his death was painful. You had felt your heart rip in two pieces that night, but, it was also eye opening. To therapists, perhaps, it was eye-opening in the worst kind of ways but you had no interest in sharing your emotions with anyone regardless of if your family thought it was a good idea or not.

Life was limited. You would die and, should you dare love anyone as much as you loved your father, they would die too.

You had no choice but to live with your mother and stepfather after the passing of your father, too poor to afford rent or fuel to drive anywhere too far away, you found yourself trapped in a house that only served to further your isolation into yourself. Though your mother tried to encourage you to go out and see friends, perhaps even a therapist, you never did so. Your stepfather encouraged natural medications and herbs, pumping your body with teas and vitamins he imported from one part of the country or another, but you always hid them away instead of taking them like he told you to.

Fights were more common than not. They would argue you with you, plead with you, to pull your head from the clouds. Your warped ideas of life and death ate away at you like a parasite, disconnecting you from reality. It shone in your job as you talked to customers in a monotone voice and shared no smiles or bouts of stories and laughter as you did when you first started. Your managers called you into the office and gave you multiple warnings, letting it go at first as grief for losing such a close family member so suddenly. Whatever friends you had before the funeral were gone now, pushed to the side in the window of unread messages and missed calls. You had disconnected your phone completely at some point, though, you couldn’t quite remember just when.

There was that too. The fogginess of your memory as every day was spent in a stupor of disconnected, warped, and malfunctioning reality. The world was never the right shade of blues or blacks. Ceiling fans swung too fast. You were afraid they would fly off the hinges and decapitate you. Food became unnatural poison that you never trusted unless you bought the ingredients and cooked it for yourself. Your stepfather’s insistences to take the vitamins he offered you became threats of poison if you did not stay in your room though the words he mouthed and the words in your head never seemed to quite match up. The world of the city you lived in became too fast-paced. Too overwhelming. The noise of airplanes flying overhead or cars in the nearby freeway zooming by gave you anxiety. Your heart ached at the mere idea of stepping food out into a world where there was nothing but noise.

It was when you were searching through old pictures of you and your father that you remembered the cabin. You remembered your technical ownership of it now and, with a joyous leap of hope in your heart, you remembered the quiet and self sustaining style that you and your father lived in every winter.

Saving up for the trip from your bustling city home was manageable enough, but, it was the leaving that was the hardest part. Suitcases in the car and last bag wrapped firmly in your whitening knuckles, you could still register the screaming sobs of your mother as you left the home you all shared.

“Running from your life won’t help you, Y/N!”

“You’re only going to get worse if you keep this up!”

“Please come back inside, you’re scaring me!”

“Y/N!”

You left without heading her warnings, rage bubbling inside of you of her view of the situation. She saw it as running away from your problems. Fleeing your life to hide like a sick dog and lick your wounds until death. You saw nothing of the sort. This trip, this move, wasn’t an escape attempt. It was a chance to start over. To live far away from where things happened and return to a world where you were happier, where memories were yet to be made, and where you could control your own life and the things you truly wanted.

It was a reset period. A well needed one. A chance to travel back into the memories you had built with your father, to properly mourn him through reconnecting in the one place you felt alive. To be safe in a world where you were in control for once and not the outside forces of cities and parents who did not understand why you were how you were. Once you mourned, then, you would have a world where no one would know or remember you. You could be the you that you wanted to be in a place where no one had any previous knowledge of your behavior.

It was perfect.

 

A heavy thunk echoed, breaking you from the silent flashback you had momentarily experienced. You turned around, cradling the last box of items you had within the moving van that had brought you out there. The man who had driven the van and helped you unload several of your things into the house before you was staring back at you with a frown bristling against his lips. You chose to ignore it, however, and offer him a smile in return despite the uneasiness he caused within you. “Thank you for the help with the heavier things,” You murmured as politely as you could, “Would you like to come in for a drink before you head out? It’ll be cold out there soon and I’m sure I know which box my kettle is in.”

The joke you attempted did not make him laugh. Instead you watched as he stepped backwards towards his truck, head shaking as he declined your offer.

“No ma’am,” His voice was low as he dared gaze around the rest of the woods warningly, “I don’t want to stay in these woods longer than I have to...they say they’re haunted, you know. A young woman like yourself really shouldn’t be left alone in them...Who knows what could lurk around here.”

You could only laugh, the voice he was using a clear warning. A gentle plead to get you to return to the safety of civilization. A foolish sort of mantra from a tongue that didn’t understand the ways of the forest and, thus, fell on the deaf ears of a woman intent on proving a point. Your fingers gripped tighter on the box, shifting it in your hands to keep the steady hold as your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, skewing his personage horizontally by only the slightest of degrees.

“I’m sure whatever is out here,” You responded with a sharp shutdown of his request, “I can handle it just fine on my own.”

“Well,” He chuckled after a few moments of silence, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, miss.”

“Have a safe drive.”

With those last four words you turned sharply on the heels of your feet, bangs brushing against your forehead while you moved forward. You refused to look back as the sound of the truck roaring to life echoed against your spine. As you felt the rumble in the soil to when it left, dissipating from the area and leaving you, again, in the familiar silence of the autumn woods. You took in a deep breath, smelling the moss and decay that had just begun to overcome the wet lakeside soil.

It smelled like a fresh start.

You hurried inside as the wind picked up, placing the final box in your living room and beginning to unpack the necessities for the night. Luckily, your father’s friend had left it furnished upon his death. The only things you had to bring were small. Utensils and electronics for the kitchen. A few pictures and decorations you could not part without. You had left your television and computer behind, disinterested in keeping in contact with those from your past life. Instead you substitute the boxes they would have taken up with books. Piles of books that would garner their own line of bookshelves both downstairs in the living room and up in your bedside dresser. You would wait to unpack them, just as you would have to wait until spring to purchase any sort of gardening implements and seeds for the backyard. There was a silent thanks that echoed in your mind to the past you for remembering to stock up on canned goods and non perishable foodstuffs, as they seemed to be what you were going to mark your survival upon for the next several months.

The unpacking went on well into the beginning of the sunset, oranges bathing the entirety of the cabin through the thin glass windows as signal for you to cease in your movements. Your own humming and gentle melodies had given you comfort as you unpacked your belongings. As you finally decided to stop for the night, pleased with the progress you had made on the living room decorations, you decided a quick dinner would be a good way to celebrate your move into the home. You placed your tea kettle on the stovetop after filling it up with the sink at its side, preparing a single mug with a fished out bag of your favorite decaffeinated chai tea placed within it to serve yourself after the water had warmed.

While waiting, you stopped out onto the porch of your home, gazing out into the vast wilderness around you. From here the world was peaceful, your heart finding pace with the twittering of the birds as they faded to give rise to the cicadas of the evening. A wind bristled at the porch, blowing past you and causing you to shiver as you watched it take a few reddened leaves with it from the ground. A mental note was made somewhere in your peripheral to rake when you could. Clearing the ground now and keeping it clear would make it easier to plant things in the spring as you wanted.

A motion in the forest caught your eye.

It was a brief shift in the trees. A single change of scenery that had your head snapping upwards and staring out into the distance, eyes as wide as a does as you observed the endless surroundings of brown and orange. Paranoia held itself tight against your stomach as it always did when you had seen something from the corners of your eye. It was not the first time something had flitted there aimlessly nor would it be the last. Your mind conjured up the thoughts of the truck driver who had taken you to the isolated cabin and helped to unpack your stuff. Of the tales he had told you while riding with him and the warning he had uttered before leaving you to your own devices.

I don’t want to stay in these woods longer than I have to...they say they’re haunted, you know.

Another shift and you stared further, squinting to try and see just what was constantly bothering your eyes.

As your mind meandered to the remembrance of the tale of Jason Voorhees, who had drowned years ago in the lake so close to your own backyard, you could have sworn that you saw a figure hiding amongst the trees. He was tall, but small compared to the towering pines around you. The cedars reached to the setting sun as you watched the possible intruder, his face hidden behind a single hockey mask as your eyes met. Or, you could only assume that your eyes had met. He felt...unreal. An apparition amongst branches. Something your mind conjured up in its spare time while you were alone. Your heartbeat in your chest was deafening as you continued to stare outwards, mouth suddenly dry at the possibility of confrontation but curious to where it would lead.

The sound of your tea kettle whistling, high pitched and shrill throughout the household, snapped you from your reverie. Your head tilted back to examine the noise, acknowledging it for a moment before turning your head back to the front of the house. But, if there ever was a figure in the first place, it was gone now. The spot you had held eye contact with for so long as empty now, leaving only you and the trees alone together.

Anxiety faded to unsureness and you shook your head, dismissing it only briefly before returning to your home and shutting the kettle off in the kitchen. It was only a momentary trick of the eye, you convinced yourself over and over again with a mantra that soon fell from between your lips audibly rather than just in your head. No matter the repetition, however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more than just your mind, plaguing you with paranoia. It was something more, just as this forest was something more.

You sipped your tea and took a breath. Whatever it was, you were sure, that the forest would reveal it to you when it trusted you enough. Until then, you were content to wait.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter up now! The reader meets Jason for the first time on a snowy walk and, well, things go…less than expected for either of them.

Autumn faded to winter, which came and went before you could register its mere existence. You had contented yourself with tidying up for the first few weeks, clearing away snow from your yard and unpacking the majority of your knick knacks to organize vagrantly around your home. You had stocked up on firewood to keep yourself warm throughout the snowy days, lived off of canned vegetables and you made a silent promise to yourself that, when the snow calmed itself down and the roads were deemed drivable yet again, you would head to town and procure some fresh meats and fruits when you had the chance. While the idea of removing yourself from the isolation of the forest was anxiety inducing above all other emotions, you knew that it was necessary. Just until you were capable of rebuilding the home you were slowly chewing through to its original, self-sustained glory of gardens and animals meandering about your legs. All good things took time, you had remembered your father’s words echoing in your heart, and hard work. They would be worth it, though.

Your eyes traced the droplets of snow that fell, the beginning of a second bought of storms slowly making their way through the Crystal Lake area. Snow had fallen early this year, you noted, starting in the middle of November just after your move and continuing on without reprieve until the middle of December. 

Your body ached with the need to stretch. To stand and walk and enjoy the peace so close to you in the form of frosted forest trees and nipping wind. The bite of the cold helped to remind you that you were alive and well, constantly needing to move and shift in order to be kept warm and free of the hypothermia that dared nip close to your heels. It was because of this aching need that constantly sung its cravings in the peripheral of your mind that you found yourself slowly sliding on your snow boots and parka, fingers wiggling into gloves while you made sure the layers of shirts along with the long scarf you wore underneath remained in position. You had scarcely recalled getting dressed for the cold until you found yourself standing outside of your home, eyes fixated on the endless forest before you.

With one last fleeting look to your home, you gave a nod to yourself before pushing forward into the misted woods.

Each step crunched as your weight pushed against the snow, most of it fresh and having never been stepped on before. There was a sense of pride in being the one to christen it with your heavy set boot, finding yourself walking as carefully as you could. If the snow was alive somehow, as you felt all things were in one way or another, you didn’t want to hurt it. Perhaps it was a silly thought to most people but here, now, who was there to judge you for it? The freedom to think so openly about life caused a sense of prideful delight to fill your stomach as you walked carefully against the forest path, weaving between ice stripped trees and avoiding stepping on any rocks and roots that just stuck up against the inches of snow piling up around you. Your breath decorated your front like a pixie, helping you to push forward and constantly singing to you to follow it. Your mind could just hear the voice in your ears, jingling like wind chimes as it whistled to you.

_This way...this way! The forest is beautiful this way…_

Your pace picked up. You found yourself nearly skipping through the woods, a laugh bubbling on the tip of your tongue and spilling forward as you broke soon into a run, the cold air burning your lungs as you wove between the trees. You spun to doge some. You twirled to dodge others. You shifted to avoid rocks and ducked to avoid fallen logs. The snow seemed to pick up with your excitement, twirling and dancing around you as if it were indulging in your laughter with you. As if it was playing with you as well. You paid no attention to where you ran or how fast you went, simply having the urge to move forward and focus on the path ahead of you, not daring to look back or follow the traces of what was. 

Faster, you urged yourself, and faster and faster and faster and-

You skidded to a stop, your lungs aching and begging you to let them catch themselves a breath. Each inhale felt like a stab to your throat as you panted, open mouthed, trying to gather up as much oxygen as possible in the moments you froze. Leaning over, your gloved hands found your bent knees and you took a few seconds to compose yourself, eyes closed so that you could feel nothing but the droplets of snow landing on your heated skin and melting away within mere seconds of touch. You took in the air, the snow below you, and the feeling of cold nipping at your nose for a few moments for heaving yourself upwards to stare at where you had ended up.

The sight of Crystal Lake greeted you in return, the entirety of its top frozen over and sparkling like glitter in the sunlight. The treeline on the other side was spattered with greens and whites and some reds from the remains of stubborn leaves still clinging to certain trees. The untouched snow on the docks and the lake was something out of a painting or fairy tale booklet. It looked so untouched. So undiscovered. It made sense, considering that Crystal Lake was mostly popular in the summer along with no one wanting to particularly visit it when such murders and legends hung around it like a cloud of morbid fog at a constant rate. It was sad to think that no one had ever enjoyed this view as much as you had, but, also it was exciting to know that you were the only one who ever did. That you were the only one here, now, to enjoy this secret nature had offered you.

At least, you had thought you were the only one.

You turned away after casting a lingering look at the frozen lake, deciding it best to find your way back to your cabin before night fell and it had gotten any colder. As you did so, your eyes met with a sight that made you still in your movements, feet cementing themselves to the ground while your heartbeat hammered loudly in your chest, stomach curdling like spoiled milk as the sweat on your brow grew more from surprise than from your previous marathon. 

He stood-no- towered before you with a frame well touching the 7 feet mark. A height beyond any human you’ve ever met. His frame was broad, taking the length of a whole tree (maybe two) as it heaved with an apparent effort of breathing. As if his lungs did not have enough capacity to fully fuel the oxygen intake he needed. What was most striking about him, however, was his face. It was the face you had seen not weeks earlier in your first week in the area. A mask, white but cracked in several spots, covered a face that was dull gray in coloration. The straps held onto the head like a parasite, almost growing into the flesh where bits of hair attempted to grow but made it only a certain length before tapering away to nothingness. Bits of ice had formed on both his clothes and mask, a likely result from the cold surrounding you both, but he didn’t seem to shiver at it. 

The silence was thick between the both of you, forming a film of discomfort that sat like a raw yolk atop a warm beverage, obscuring the reality of what was underneath it in favor of moderate unease. You felt your breaths come in short, attentive sort of gasps. As if your mind didn’t quite want you to breathe too deep or too heavy, least it attract a negative attitude from the man you almost immediately knew the identity of as you shared eye contact with one another. 

The boy who had drowned in the lake over sixty years ago was still here, now, in the visage of a man who smells faintly of ice water and moss. Who matched the forest in stillness and unknown hostility as he towered unmoving before you. The legends and various murder cases you had heard take place throughout the area had all clicked into place for you now, your mind understanding the links with this single meeting yet...for some reason...you did not feel completely scared. Startled? Perhaps, but, who wouldn’t be if you turned to see someone so large so suddenly sneaking up on them? The teenagers he had killed in the past were fooling around, undoubtedly, in the quiet of the abandoned camp they were sure they were alone in. If a group of horny strangers fucked on your front steps, you’d certainly raise a fuss about it yourself.

You had shown no signs of debauchery to him yet, and that was the only reason you were still alive at this point you were sure. He was staring at you, hollowed eyes boring into your soul. Your stomach swelled with something...something you couldn’t put a finger on. It crawled like a parasite up your esophagus and died on the tip of your tongue as you watched him take one large, careful step towards you. The words you spoke next were unplanned as you blurted them as fast as you possibly could:

“You look cold!”

He stopped in his movements, as if the force of your words had startled him. His head tilted, a sign of disbelieving curiosity that you could feel emanating from his personage. A blush of embarrassment heated up the already rosy areas of your cheeks as you cleared your throat, gesturing to him with unsure gloved hands as you dared to continue in a mumbling sort of voice.

“Uh-Well! I j-just mean...that...you’re not exactly dressed for this weather! I don’t-um-well-I think wearing something warmer would feel nicer, right? If you catch a cold, that would be bad...Colds aren’t fun. Have you had one before?”

Silence echoed in return, his head fixing itself upright but he still did not move. Did not talk. Could he talk? You weren’t sure. You also weren’t sure why your hands were going up to your neck, slowly unraveling the scarf from around it. You slid the band of fabric off from your body, shuddering slightly at the chill of exposure brought up to your neck, and folded it neatly between your fingers. Once it was in a straight band of fabric you guessed would fit around his neck, you did what most would assume would be the stupidest movement of your life.

You dared to take a step forward, shaky hands offering out the being before you. An offering to the god of the forest, in a way. A gift of peace you hoped would convey your meaningfulness in the kindest way possible. A signal that you were swearing not to be like those who had come before you because, truly, you were not like them. He would most likely choose not to believe you, however, and you were okay with that. There was a sort of peace in your situation that most would call you morbid for accepting the moment you had laid eyes on him. The acceptance of death was much more sure than the possibility of staring paranoid at the forest for the rest of your time here. You prefer its reassurance over the thrum of dissociation you would have experienced otherwise. It was one thing you appreciated about the concept. You had known your father’s boss would die. You had known it was only a matter of time before your father’s disease took him. Now, like them, you would experience your assured death here and now. A sign of a curse long enveloping the bloodline you carried against your veins. You could only wonder if he’d make you suffer, or, perhaps spare you and snap your neck easily. 

As you wondered what kind of sound your bones would make in the echo of the quiet forest landscape, Jason lumbered forward. You watched him, doe eyes wide as you wondered what he might do to you. 

Instead of snapping your neck or reaching for a weapon to run you through like you had well assumed he was going to do, however, he simply reached out with a slow hand and gripped the scarf.

He didn’t pull it from your grip, instead just holding it along with you. His head tilted again to the side, a silent inquiry as to what to do next. The smile on your lips was unintentional as you tried to bite down the laughter that threatened to appear. You focused instead on giving him an encouraging nod.

“You can take it...if you want. Um...do you...know how to wrap it around your neck?”

He gave another nod, this time fully taking the scarf from you and, more or less, throwing the fabric around his neck. He made no show of tucking it in like you might have or readjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall flimsily around his shoulders and cling to his existing coat. You couldn’t blame him, however, and seeing him with at least a new layer of warmth on gave you some sense of motherly relief you didn’t expect yourself to have for the massive forest dweller. Silence overtook the both of you again as you simply stared at one another. You dared to make the first move again, hands fiddling with the edges of your coat as you stared back out at the lake.

“It’s really beautiful this time of year, I think...Is it as peaceful as it looks all the time?”

A long silence. You looked up at him to see if he would make a nod or gesture to show you. Instead he was quiet, simply staring at you. From this angle you could see his eyes, or, one of them rather. It bore into your flesh, glinting with a silent curiosity. A hesitant sort of watch. A sign that, should you do anything he didn’t like, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. You looked back over the lake, deciding that you’d at least like a view before you died...A sad sort of smile touched at your lips now as you remembered the origin of his story...the thought of him being alone here all this time…

“I visited here a lot as a kid,” You stated, “Always during the winter...My father and I really loved waking walks around the forest in the winter. When we came home we’d make hot chocolate and help one another keep up the garden we had. Though, nothing much grew during winter...I didn’t mind, though, it was always peaceful. Though, I bet you’re pretty used to it…”

You held his gaze again, watching him as he watched you. Half of you craved asking if he was going to kill you. If he was, then when? The other half of you would rather keep it a surprise...if he did at all. Instead, you found yourself asking the single inquiry you had longed for since you had gotten to the edge of the lake. Tilting your head towards the pathways lining the sparkling structure of water, you called out, “I’m Y/N, also...You’re name is Jason Voorhees, isn’t it?”

He gave a nod.

“I see...It must’ve been really cold around here all these years...I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with it. With the people that have been around.”

You gazed out again before turning back to the forest, your tongue clicking against your teeth as you gave a nod of affirmation to yourself.

“Would you...like to walk with me back to my house?”

Another series of silence echoed between the both of you. He didn’t respond. Slowly, ever so slowly, you reversed your steps and gave him a curious look. As you meandered back to your home, you eventually turned to face the way you were walking, figuring that if he had truly wanted to kill you, then, he would have done it already. There was a sense of surprise, and moderate anxiety, as you heard footsteps fall in the snow behind you. As heavy boots echoed against the snow, without a doubt overshadowing your smaller footprints in his own. Still, you continued to walk.

The two of you strolled through the forest, you occasionally commenting about things you saw and him saying nothing in return, only giving you nods or adjusting the scarf you had offered him around his neck carefully. The walk had changed something in the dynamic of the air. It had gone from heavy, filled with the threat of blood and death, to something akin to two strangers...simply walking together. To a person leading and a dog following. Not to say Jason was a dog, of course, he was his own person...was that what made it so interesting?

You mulled these concepts over and over again in your mind, touching at trees as you passed and soon continuing the walk you two shared in silence. You wondered why he walked behind you, his strides long enough to easily overtake yours at any moment. Maybe he had decided you weren’t a threat, since you hadn’t shown any signs of debauchery or interest in such things in your time there. Perhaps it was because you had offered a gift instead of screaming, appeasing him into curiosity of what else you might have had for him...Perhaps, perhaps. The word echoed like a rapid drill in your head. It slid from your lips once or twice, testing its pronunciation on your tongue before dying away with ease. 

Eventually you stopped, the view of your home slowly sinking into your line of sight.

“Oh,” You blinked, “We’re here.”

Jason was at your side now as you stopped, sharing in your gaze of the snow covered cabin. You looked up at him, watching him as he stared straight ahead. He had nuzzled himself in your light lilac scarf now and you could not help but admire the stark contrast of the purple against his otherwise darkly colored palette. You’d almost dare say that he looked...handsome.

“Well,” You hummed, “I better get going inside. It’s cold, after all.”

You walked a few steps forward, stopped, and thought about your options. If he was truly allowing you to get away with this for a moment, perhaps you should count yourself lucky and continue forward, never to speak of it again. But...what if this could be something more? What if this could be the chance for something else...a friend...a confidant...someone only you could see and speak to in the deep quiet of the woods? There was a greediness that overcame your stomach. A wanton need to create more reason to stay. More reason to cling. To grab and to suffocate and to cherish...to cherish…

You turned despite yourself.

“Did you want….” You trailed off, licking your chapped lips before continuing, “Did you want to come in, Jason? You could warm up yourself before going...um...wherever it is you needed to go.”

There was a hesitance in him you hadn’t seen before, as if he didn’t know what to do in this situation. He took a step forward, then back, as if rethinking the offer. You waited, patiently, as he seemed to pull into himself with the effort of vexing over the situation. Feeling slight guilt on your part for presenting the issue in the first place, you waved your hand forward to get his attention with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, I was too excited. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to...but um...if you ever do decide to visit, I’ll be open okay? I don’t have a lot of work to do around here until spring anyways, so…”

The offer faded into silence.

Slowly, Jason’s hands reached up to undo the scarf around his neck, slowly sliding it off in an effort to offer it back to you. With wide eyes, your hands shot up with a laugh.

“Oh, no, it’s okay! I have more than one scarf. You should keep it, to make sure you stay warm for the rest of the winter okay? Consider it a thanks for walking me home…”

 _And not killing me_ , you added the last part in your mind. He stood up straighter, as if surprised by the fact you had offered him a gift. Had anyone offered him a gift before in his life? Your heart ached to imagine it. He pulled his hands back, examining the scarf, before extending it again curiously. As if double checking. As if ASKING. Were you really sure about this?

“I’m sure, don’t worry,” You smiled, “Please, keep it...I’ll um...See you around then?”

He didn’t say anything. He only gave a slow, ghost of a nod against his mask. You took that s a sign the transaction was over. A signal that it was time to go in. Your nose was near numb with the nip of the winter air, the snow making its way through your boots and into your socks. You uttered one last goodbye to the man before you while you shut your cabin door. You didn’t lock it, though...For whatever reason, it didn’t seem appropriate to do in the situation. He could get in if he really wanted to, anyways. What was the point?

You slid down on the back of your door, your spine catching on the old and splintered wood while you bit your lip to stop a yelp of successful relief echoing from between your lips. Well. You had survived an encounter with an esteemed ghost killer. No applause or victory music followed this revelation. Instead there was...a sense of melancholy pity, almost. To say that the view of the entire situation was warped beyond its realities within the landscape of your mind was an understatement. Then again, you had never viewed things the same as other people anyway.

Your mind had found beauty in the grotesque. Home in the quiet. Warmth in cold….A handsome face under a normally terrifying visage. 

Half of you doubted he would return. You realized this as you made yourself stand and went to the kitchen to prepare a warm batch of hot chocolate for yourself with deep and even breaths. He would probably leave and never come back, focusing on the hooligans running around his lake instead. If he did come back, maybe it would be to kill you? You tried not to dwell on it, but, your mind constantly bombarded you with thoughts and considerations. On questions you would have loved to ask Jason Voorhees should you have maintained easier conversation with him. Not that he would answer...you didn’t think he could.

You wished you could have told him your opinion on the lake itself. Your thoughts of the woods. You wanted to tell him your favorite color and how you liked the feeling of wind on your skin because it reminded you that you were flesh and bone.

You wish you could have told him you were sorry for how counselor’s treated him before he drowned…

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't bother to stare out the window of your kitchen. If you did, you would have seen him amongst the trees again, hiding behind some while patiently observing you through the dark eyes of his mask. You would have also caught the fluttering ends of the lilac scarf he had re-wrapped around his neck, tucking it close into his flesh to keep the cold at bay while tilting his head to watch every movement you made within your walls. 

You would have seen curiosity.

But you didn’t.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader begins to form a bond with Jason Voorhees in the form of gift giving. Exhanges between people are the surest way to find out more about them, after all. You begin to wonder if this is something more of a suitor situation than friendship, and you can only wish you're right.

The days after meeting Jason felt more like a dream than the actual encounter. No matter how many times you had attempted to convince your mind that your encounter was merely a vibrant, dream hallucination, you simply could not bring yourself to admit the blatant lie you were attempting in the back of your mind. It wasn’t a dream, your more vibrant half barked out with teeth bared, because you had seen the pairs of footprints when you had went outside to check the next day. You had looked for the missing lilac scarf you had offered the man in place of his cold nothingness and he had accepted. The sight of Crystal Lake, frozen perfectly in the moment you had met, etched itself into your mind like an acrylic painting. 

It would be less frustrating if you had some sort of closure. A signal to remind yourself that he was real. That this whole thing was true to your memory, which had already faltered you so many times in the past that you would not give it the satisfaction of doing so again. Yet, in the days that ticked by with each second feeling like hours in the forefront of your disinterested cranium, there was nothing but frustration. You began counting each hour of the day, muttering the numbers to yourself out loud as you washed dishes or cast a glance at the clock on the wall that you were, honestly, still not sure if it told the right time. Two days, fourteen hours, forty seven minutes, fifteen seconds….Two days, fourteen hours, forty seven minutes, twenty seconds….

Then you found the first gift.

The term was used loosely, of course, because many people could consider it a threat over a gift. You had opened up the door to your home, intent on shoveling some snow out of the way of your continuously icy porch, but, were stopped by the sight before you. It was the skull of a small animal, unidentifiable without its fur but omnivorous according to the teeth that shone pearlescent in the light. Its hollowed eye sockets stared into you, startling you at its appearance. It was arranged in such a way on your front porch mat that you could not think it a mistake. For there was no other part of the animal. There was no other sign something had moved it there aside from footsteps in the fresh snow that looked all too big to be yours.

You leaned downwards, picking up the fragile bone with the most delicate grip you could manage. Resting the skull in your palm, you rotated your hand so that you could observe the item from all angles. It looked...natural. A skull dug up from the resting place of something long passed away. It had decayed years ago, leaving only its bones in its wake. It looked small...but the teeth were fierce, pointed canines curved sharply with molars resting the back. Your lip twitched slightly. Did this remind him of you, you wondered? Or perhaps you were reading too much into it. Perhaps he did mean it as a threat...Perhaps he wanted you gone?

No, you reasoned. He knew where you lived. If you had been a threat, you would have died days ago.

Instead of wondering further, you simply took the skull inside. You located a spot on the windowsill that faced the front of your house, dusting off the perch lightly before placing the skull down on it, adjusting it in just the perfect position so that it was displayed proudly before the glass. You gave the bone snout a gentle stroke, another smile growing on your lips as you looked out the window, tilting your head as you tried to imagine him sliding into your porch, setting down the bone and leaving without even waking you up. It was...flattering is the word you chose to think, though most would not be too sure you should.

You felt a need to rebuttal.

Running up the stairs to your home, you entered your bedroom. A box lay next to your bookshelf, unattended to and not yet unpacked as you had been saving it until the last minute like any true house mover. There was always those final boxes that never seemed to make it out of the packed state, stuck forever in the way that they were. You fixed that with this one, freeing the contents as you pulled the tape along the edges off and flipped the closing sides open with a flourished heave. 

It didn’t have too much in it, the simple decorations you had wanted to organize against your bookshelf where you did not have enough books to quite fill in specific gaps. Fingers grazed at the items within it as you tilted your head, biting your lip as you made an effort to locate the perfect item in which to return your current suitor’s communication. That’s what this was, right? Suitor in the sense of the old fashioned way of wooing women. Of leaving them gifts and courting them in a series of content and proper rituals. That sort of thing. You weren’t really sure, but, this felt right, and you had been known by more than one person to go with what you simply felt, not what your mind completely dictated was reason to you. 

Your hand caught on a jewelry box, its sides chipped and paint faded. It had been your grandmother’s when she was a little girl and, to be honest, you weren’t quite sure why you had kept it in here. You were not close with your grandmother, with her living halfway across the country with no real interest in visiting you or your mother. You didn’t even wear jewelry, save for the occasional black choker to go with a stylish outfit when an outing demanded more than one simple accessory. You had worn earrings once or twice, but, found them annoying to take in and out, ending up with the same sapphire studs in your holes for longer than you probably should have before eventually allowing them to close up. Regardless of its origins, you dug through it, searching for something that might have been fitting or, at the very least, could be used for some sort of decoration.

You fished out a pearl necklace from it, the natural forming calcium carbonate weighing heavy in your hands. You tilted your head to the side as you considered the option of it, lip finding its way into your mouth and between your teeth as you thought. He wouldn’t have much of a use for it, that’s certain...Then again, there were rumors of him still loving his mother as well, as she was the one who had killed for him in the first place. Would homage to her be too forward? Or would he feel as though you didn’t care about him if you did this? It was always good to talk with parents, of course. Maybe she would like you? You ignored the fact that she had died in your mind, momentarily forgetful of the fact in favor of choosing the pearl necklace and walking gingerly down your staircase instead. While passing in the living room, your fingers ghosted across the items you had within it, settling on your bookshelf as you peered through the options. 

Your hand happened upon an older copy of a childhood classic. A leather bound, shapely copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. You pulled it from its spot against your shelf, fondling it idly with a smile. These fairytales had always been your favorite, the grotesque endings so refreshing from whatever modern adaptations there seemed to be out there. The twisted way Cinderella’s stepsisters paid for their transgressions with the loss of their sight made you smug with a sense of justice. Yet, you also pitied the wolf in Red Riding Hood. A creature that was simply looking for its next meal, unsure of where it would be….When a human wanders into the forest, you thought, it is the forest who controls them now. What happens to them is of its own design, as the realm is not of their own. One had to respect where they were, because nature was always ready in one form or another to take what it deserves.

You put the pearls on top of the book and carried them out to your front porch, gazing around at the wintered wasteland for a few moments before gently placing them at the very edge of the porch steps. Snow sunk into the leather but did not wet it. The droplets that fell from the sky merely accentuated the pearls beauty. You bit your lip, suddenly unsure if this was the right thing to do. Would he accept the gifts? Would he find them offensive, maybe? Perhaps he wouldn’t realize they were for him and you should leave a note. 

These thoughts bit at the back of your brain as you left the items where they were, closing your door and standing in the center of your living room, looking around almost aimlessly as you gathered yourself up. He would know, you determined with a final affirmation within yourself, and there would be no need to worry about it. The communication of gift giving was a carefully planned one, and no one would engage in it should they not know what they were getting themselves into.

You hoped. You really hoped anyways.

The day came and went and, as if you were a child on Christmas morning once again, you felt yourself giddily rushing down the stairs and out into the porch. Your feet were bitten by the icy snow underneath them as you forgot in your rush to put on proper footwear for the weather, but, you barely registered the bitter pain against the tips of your toes. For the book and necklace you had put down were gone. Like alchemy in their place was yet another skull. This time it was of a bird, an owl you assumed due to the wide nature of its eye sockets and the minatureness of its beak. 

It joined the first skull on your windowsill, displaying itself proudly as you ran back into your home to locate another gift, now fully invested in the pattern you were about to encourage between you and the mysterious killer of Crystal Lake.

The pattern repeated itself for several more days until it became somewhat of a daily routine for the both of you. You would wake up to a new present each morning, usually a skull but sometimes it had evolved into winter flowers and rocks from the edge of the frozen lake, smoothed by years of erosion against the shore, and you would in turn leave the present of jewelry or a book or whatever else you had in your home you felt you could part with. Once you had dared to leave a note with your items, it was simply a piece of paper with a heart drawn on it. When it was taken with the gifts you had left, you felt pride swell in the pit of your stomach with the hope that he knew just what you were insinuating with the single shape. When you receive the present of what looked to be human teeth resting in a neat pile, a heart drawn next to it crudely in the snow, you knew that your affections were returned.

This lead to, more often than not, the daydreams of Jason filling your already chilled mind. You imagined what he would be like in your home, his hulking form sitting on your couch as you leaned against him and read a book. You pictured him leaning down and allowing you to press a kiss into your cheek. Your mind then wandered to the thought of more than kisses, picturing the torso hidden under his tattered clothes and, without a doubt, the cock that would match the proportions of the massive man, and you had to bury your face in the pillow you were hugging to push it away properly. 

The knock on the door shortly after the imagery was startling. It sounded heavy set, the solid thuds of a fist that made the wood of your fragile home groan in protest. Your heart skipped a beat, daring to hope of just who it was. Standing up, you put the pillow you had been holding down against the couch and hurried out to the door. When your hands rested on the cool metal knob, you felt...somewhat hesitation. An inkling of unsureness creeping up your spine like a parasite until it wrapped your brainstem, your mind growing fuzzy as you thought of the consequences this could possibly lead.

_Consequences?_ Your mind scoffed at your thoughts, for if he wanted your death he would have dealt with it. _If there were consequences_ , you thought snarkily to yourself, _he wouldn’t give you such gifts. He wouldn’t pull a human’s teeth out for you. Give him a chance, you silly girl. Give it to him._

With that you opened the door.

Jason stood there, lilac scarf wrapped around his neck. The sight made your heart leap with appreciation, knowing he kept the fabric with him. His breath came out in puffs through the holes of his hockey mask. Bits of frost still clung to the yellowed mask, making him look almost like a statue in the light of the slowly setting winter sun. It was endearing, you realized with a blush warming your cheeks. It was handsome. He tilted his head at you and you grinned back.

“Hello, Jason. It’s good to see you.”

He didn’t respond and it was only then you chose to look down. He was holding things, you realized, and had extended his hands to you in order to get you to see them. One hand held the tomb of fairytales you had given him in your first tentative gift exchange, its leather cover now dusted with frost and wetness. 

The other hand held a severed human arm.

There was a moment that your stomach lurched at the sight of it. It was your turn to tilt your head as you stared at the limb with borderline fascination in your eyes. It looked like it was fresh, but, just old enough so that it didn’t drip any crimson blood down in the snow and on your flooring, which you were thankful for. You didn’t think you had any books that stated how to get blood out of hardwood. 

“Is that another gift for me?” You dare to question.

When you’re met with a nod of confirmation, the smile leaks onto your lips without you having to force it. Hands extended, you wait patiently for him to place the item in them. He understands after a moment of staring, reaching out and placing the arm between your fingers. It’s bare, the skin pale and slowly greying with the frost and rigor mortis setting in. It’s colder than you would have thought, and you could see the splintering of the bone inside of the severed area as parts of the ripped flesh dangled slightly, blowing in the wind that echoed through your door. The person had freckles, you noticed. You brought the object close to your eyes to observe if, the scent of rot vaguely registering itself in your nose as you ran your fingers over the palm and bent each of its digits testily. They gave friction against your actions and you found it...amusing in a way. You tried to imagine it as your high school bully’s arm and it gave you a twisted sense of solace. 

“Thank you,” You hummed with a grin, “I like it a lot. I don’t know where I’ll keep it, though...It might smell if it’s inside. Maybe I can have it in the back shed…”

As you mulled, Jason proceeded to dare to reach out, tapping your shoulder in such a gentle way that you startled out of your thought process. He held up the book to you, staring at you with silent intent. Your eyes searched his, flowing from his face down to the book in hand and you tilted your head. A sense of understanding...and then guilt...flooded your system.

“Oh,” You mumbled, “You don’t know how to read?”

He shook his head no.

You dared to take this as an opportunity. Lowering the limb to your side, you reached out your free hand and offered it to him. The air was tense now as you felt yourself say the words most would have been terrified to even consider, yet, they flowed like melted butter from between your lips. 

“Would you like to come inside? I could show you the stories in them, if you’d like.”

You expected him to back away and disagree as he did the first time you met. You expected him to take offense in one way or another and decide it was time to murder you. You expected anything else but the sight of him hesitant at first, but, slowly reaching out his hand and placing it in yours. His fingertips were cold from the frost of the outside. One digit was easily two of yours, maybe three. His palm completely consumed your own and your skins finally touching sent a tingle of delight down your spine. You didn’t believe in soulmates or love at first touch, certainly, but...the feeling you had upon gaining his grip was nothing short of electrifying. 

With a shy smile, you lead him inside of your home. He followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support I've gotten on this fic so far! You're all so nice ;u; If you like my writing, feel free to check out my imagines blog on tumblr: https://slasherkisss.tumblr.com/! 
> 
> A heads up also that the chapter after this will contain NSFW and sexual themes!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and the reader have a moment together as he comes in for tea, only to leave with something far more valuable. You begin to feel like, well, perhaps Crystal Lake had brought you here for a reason more than moving after a bad situation. Perhaps...you really were meant to find this place. To find Jason. Who knows?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took forever to write? My life had been seriously thrown for a loop for a while there, but, I finally managed to get this chapter out! I'm not sure how consistent I can be with my schedule of this fic, but, please know that I am doing my best to write it and I will finish it! I'm determined!

You entered your home, the room warmed with the sweet scent of freshly baked pastries that you had pulled from the oven recently and were allowing to cool amongst your comfortable day against the back of your couch. You held the door open for Jason before closing it behind you, not locking it in case he wanted to leave...or in case you needed to run. Caution filled your veins, but, not as much as one would have liked to be normal. Hell, a ‘normal’ person wouldn’t have let this man into their house at all. They wouldn’t have moved to Crystal Lake at all, knowing its history and the being that lived within it. Were you normal, though, you wondered with a haphazard smile at your own musings, perhaps not. Regardless, you allowed it.

Regardless, you were alive.

You placed the arm on the kitchen table, careful to make sure the severed section was resting against a placemat in case blood somehow did leak out of the older orifice. Asking him to sit on the couch, you took a moment to brew some tea before joining him.

\---

You leaned against the massive figure at your side, his skin cold against your own warm, fluctuating temperature. You could feel the muscles hidden underneath the coat and sweater shift as they tensed with sudden surprise at your closeness. Your eyes held the movements with careful regulation, making sure there was no line being crossed that would result in the careful mood you had helped to set being ruined. Moments passed and, soon, the tension gave away to relaxation as he grew to realize your movements were going nowhere beyond what you had done already. A smile graced your face as you sighed, comfortable with the situation now and hopeful that the room you were in would be able to warm Jason soon.

“Now," You murmured as you touched at the Grimm tome at your side, "Would you like to hear a story?"

His nod was almost eager, as if you had asked the question to a child. Another swell of pity crashed into the shores of your heart like a tsunami upon the realization that he most likely hadn't heard a story in many, many years. Even if he did, you further mused in your mind while you took your time to flip open the book and graze its pages for the perfect beginning tale, he would only have heard campfire tales of him. Words falling from irresponsible trespassers about the boy who drowned in the lake they were staying next to and who had come back to seek revenge on those who entered his territory. Instead of being sad or mournful of the poor, dead soul who had been hurt that day, they dared to commercialize it. To mock it relentlessly and dare one another to enter the area like petty thieves! You felt your body bristle with annoyance at the mere idea of it all, teeth clenching in your jaw as you took a deep breath and steadied your now shaking hands against the book. Jason watched you, half of him curious and the other half daring to keep his distance from you, less something happen that would prove his need to end your life swiftly.

"How about Cinderella?" You hummed softly as your fingers grazed the pages of said tale and you took a breath to compose yourself, "It's one of my favorites...Do you know about the story?"

Jason shook his head, and you couldn't help but smile in delight at the thought of being the one to show someone your favorite story for their first time. You moved closer to him, resting against his body and propping the book between the both of you so that he might see the pictures illustrated on the finely yellowed paper. 

"A rich man's wife became sick...and, when she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside..."

As you read, the words flowing like a memory from between your lips, Jason leaned in closer. His breath ghosted over the top of your head, his arms moving away from his sides and to the book, to you, in an effort to trace the words and images. You bit a chuckle back through paragraphs as he tilted his head through the narrative, looking like he wanted to ask several questions but was unable to. His body tensed as the tale crescendoed into the end, your gruesome description of the stepsister's fates perhaps slightly embellished under your tongue as you read through them with vehement passion.  Once finished, you sighed with satisfaction before shutting the book and placing it on the coffee table before you with an affirming nod.

"I love the ending of that story," You murmured to Jason, who was now so close to you that you were able to hear the faint beating of his heart under his clothes, "Those who were cruel got what they deserve, don't you think? Torturing that poor girl like that...I don't find it fair at all."

Jason nodded. You saw his eye avert its gaze from you and down to your body. You felt cold on your thigh, gazing with him to see he had put his hand on it as well. It was trembling on your skin and you felt your heart jump into your throat as you reached out, touching it to judge the amount of movement it was creating for itself. "What's wrong, Jason?" You asked with breathless worry, "Did it scare you? Are you feeling alright? Here, come closer and let me look-"

You reached. He didn't jerk back. He accepted the gentle touch you placed on his face, leaning him forward so that you could look through the mask and into its sockets. Into his face, holding his gaze for a moment before daring to break it in search of any other mark of pain or breakage on his body. Once finding nothing, your mind slid itself out of its momentary fit of intense activity to realize the gravity of your position. You had practically climbed on top of Jason in your efforts to both see what was wrong with him and through the passion you had read your story. His hand in yours, they sat on your hips once more as you held his face in your hand, cradling it close to your own. His breaths were ragged, shaking his shoulders as if he were the beginnings of an earthquake. 

"Are you nervous?" You asked, choosing your words carefully as you could.

He shook his head 'no'. You licked your lips, pursing them into a line.

"Are you lying to me?"

A pause...and then a slow, shameful nod of his head yes. Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head.

"It's rude to lie."

He nodded that he knew.

"Are you nervous because I'm so close?"

_Yes._

"Do you want me...to move away?"

_No._

You held your breath, the sharp inhale obvious as your grip tightened by only the smallest of margines. Your body was shaking now too, being so close to Jason and holding him like this...Your mind flew around within itself, half of it writhing under the other's fierce taloned grip. It begged you not to do what you wanted to do, to think of the consequences and the reasoning behind its patience. The other tore at its neck, silencing it under the victorious screams of encouragement.  _Do it_ , it wailed in delight, you know you are able to!  _Do not be controlled, take control. You are what needs to happen, do it! Do it!_

Don't! Do...Don't! Do...Do...!Do!

"Do you want me to get closer?"

It hung like stagnant water around you both, your breathings ceasing at the same time. The only sound that echoed now was the crackling of the fireplace, the scent of the room a mix of tea and copper from the appendage still sitting, half-forgotten, on your kitchen table. You were patient in your waiting as Jason took his time to argue with something within himself, his stomach curdling softly as he seemed to hyper focus on the offer put before him. You but your lip, mind racing to try and think if a way to comfort him. To show him that this was entirely his decision and his alone. Whatever response you received, you would respect it.

You dared move forward, slow and steady, as if he were a frightened deer. You could see his eye widen in awe at the closeness of your body. Of the way you pressed yourself against him. For all his Momma and him preached of sin amongst campers and trespassers, he couldn't help but feel the thoughts fade within his mind as you brought your face to his. After all, you did live here didn't you?  It didn't make you a trespasser or even a camper...perhaps that's why his Momma made no objection in the back of his mind? Perhaps that's why he felt... excited? Excited to see you. To head your voice. To feel pride at the way you so proudly displayed his gifts. To-

You pressed your lips to his mask, not daring to lift it up in case you crossed a boundary that sent him panicking. The plastic was cold on your lips, tasting of dirt and copper and wetness as you dared open your mouth to taste. The indents of the holes where his mouth would be pressed into the appendage. You could feel the labored breathing of Jason through each one as he exhaled, coating you in his taste and scent. It was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. You felt your pulse beat rapidly in the center of your chest as your lips touched where his might be, taking in more and more of his scent. More of his form.

You honestly were ready to die.

You knew of the rumors. Of the reason behind Jason's murders to those trespassing, specifically teenagers who were too horny for their own good. Yet there you were, practically on his lap as you held his hands with yours through the deep kiss you had initiated.  How disgusting, you mused in your mind with a smirk that pushed against his mask, that you would die the same way those ungrateful creatures would. How sad, what a sad...tragic little girl you were. How horrible. How-

Your mind froze when you felt a hand on your leg, tightening its grip so solidly that you made yourself pull away from the 'lips' of the man before you, keeping your gaze steady on his eyes, which were long avoiding your gaze. Something akin to shame seemed to burn in their center and you tilted your head, taking your time to observe what you saw in his eyes. Taking your time to observe the heaving of his shoulders. The sudden tightness of his pants as his fingers gripped at your thigh with a bruising strength that had long melted into pleasure and awe at his power. Licking your lips, tasting him still on the faintest edges of them, you found confidence.

"Did you...like that?"

_Yes._

"I...won't ask you to do anything you aren't comfortable with but...Did your Momma ever tell you that there are other ways to pleasure people...without it being bad?"

His head snapped up, eyes widening dangerously in your direction and you felt your heart beat erratically in your chest as you tried to find your words to explain as fast as possible. Quickly, before that grip on your leg became tight enough to rip it off of your body and beat you with it. For some reason, that thought and pressure just managed to make you more wet as you leaned forward, rocking your lower half on his and taking a deep breath, shutting your eyes to concentrate on your words rather than his face. His form. His cock straining on his pants.

"People can use sex to get to know one another...To feel close to people they love...To understand them in a carnal and pure way...It's not just how people do it out here, you know, with just their lower halves. You can use other parts...Your hands...your mouth...Your fingers."

A pause so heavy it broke like glass. You waited for an answer. A question. Anything that might indicate his curiosity above all else. All you seemed to get was a contemplative look for a while and, you were sure, your fate was sealed. You had a good run, without a doubt, but this one mistake may cost you it all. Your shoulders were tense as Jason Voorhees finally gazed back up at you, visible eye wide with intensity that made panic swarm the base of your throat. His hand twitched on your bottom half, fingers ghosting up your body, tracing your shoulders. Touching your neck with the faintest grip before leaving to feel your form, passing your chest and holding your hips and you shuddered at each ghost of a touch he seemed to offer you. You dared to reach down, hand touching to his.

"Can I show you?"

He didn't move. You took that as an indication to start.

You brought his hand to your stomach, letting his fingers spread to caress the supple flesh under your shirt before making it travel downwards. Jason inhaled, sharp and deep, as you let his fingers rest on the waistband of your pants. Keeping it there, you used your free hand to awkwardly shake yourself from their confines with the utmost caution you could muster. Slow. Careful. This first time would not be anything large, but, it would be intimate. Your pants fell behind you with your pulls, leaving you in a flimsy pair of cheap panties you had slipped on in the morning on a whim of choice. You took his hand again and began to bring it further down. 

He took initiative out of curiosity next, fingers pressing against your clothed pussy and moving his hand. His fingers were so thick, just one of them enough as it pressed into your panties and sent both the digit and the fabric into your wet hole, soaking both in your juices as his knuckle brushed your clit. You bit your lip, moaning soft and breathy at the sensation he offered to you and rocking your hips in a display of approval. His eyes widened again, fingers drawing back and holding his hand to his chest as if he was afraid he had done something wrong. Eyes widening, you bit at your lip before reaching out to his hand, bringing it back upwards to place a kiss on the knuckle.

"You didn't hurt me! I'm okay, see?" You smiled, "It felt good...Are you okay?"

He seemed...confused by this question. Not uncomfortable, but, definitely perturbed. You waited, patiently, for him to find his ability to answer, which he did by giving a slow nod of agreement, this one more eager than the initial hesitance had when you asked to show him. It was good. It was progress. Your mind, still riding the high of his visit in general, continued on instinct as you smiled and brought his hand down again to your core, this time making sure his fingers slipped past your panties so that the flesh of them touched your labia, pushing further as he inserted his finger into your pussy with slow and methodical interest.

He was huge, you realized with a soft moan of his name. One finger was enough to fill you so well that you were practically writhing. It hadn't helped that, well, since you had arrived there hadn't been time to either seek action or masturbate on your own. Each touch was like ten as a result, your hypersensitivity not going unnoticed but not drawing a negative reaction either as Jason tilted his head and pushed his finger deeper, hitting the knuckle before bringing it back out and repeating the process, admiring the squelch of your juices that echoed as a result.  Your hands flew out, gripping at his shoulders while your hips moved. You bit your lip, eyes screwed shut as you concentrated on the pleasure.

"Yes," You breathed out at him with a soft laugh, "Yes, that's it...Ah, it feels-mm-good. C-Can you add-ahh-another finger please?"

Your politeness was amusing enough to earn an awkward chuckle at the least, but a compliance as you felt a second finger slide in, the two digits far thicker than one and stretching you so comfortably that your moan was louder than you had planned. Rather than shy away from it, however, it seemed to spur him on.

Jason continued to finger you, each scissoring movement hitting your core and your careful instructions to him making sure that you experienced the perfect pleasure. Three fingers in, he pumped them vigorously in and out of you as you all but rode his hand, white knuckled grip on his shoulders only tightening more as you felt the approach of your orgasm immanent over your body. You could only warn him in huffs of air, gentle calls of his name, and finally a keen so high-pitched it may have belonged to a bird as goosebumps ran over your entire form. Your orgasm coated his hands in your juices and Jason, quite surprised by the sudden onslaught, kept his fingers buried deep within you as you bucked your hips on them, riding them through the white hot pleasure that had spilled out of you with a gasp for air.

You looked up at Jason with hooded eyes, mouth parted in surprised at the events before a chuckle managed through your lips.

"That was...hah...Wonderful, Jason...Th-Thank you I-."

A pause as you looked down. His cock strained almost painfully in his pants. As he pulled his fingers out of you, he noted your gaze and turned away in shame. Reaching, you touched his arm with a deep breath, "You don't have to be ashamed of it, you know. It's natural."

Natural...was any of this natural? Was your longing for this life of isolation natural? Or what of the sudden craving you had to see this ghost of a man's dick...You wondered how natural it was for a grieving girl to give her life up for a land she may die in and no one would find her body. For her to risk her life as she showed a murderer how to touch himself for the first time. It was all, perhaps, the most unnatural thing you could possibly imagine yourself doing, yet, there was something perfect about it. Something like pieces falling into place, a puzzle being solved as you untucked Jason from his pants and inhaled sharply at the sizable length offered in return. 

He was a large man, and it went both ways. 

Nine inches at the least, you realized as you swallowed in awe, and perhaps a little less thick than your wrist...you weren't quite sure what to make of the dick you were currently staring at. It stood at attention to your touch, throbbing and weeping with precum as the veins on its underside tensed with a longing for release. Jason seemed unsure of where to put his hands, one settling on the couch an the other back on your thigh as if it were a sort of lifeline. As if, when in doubt, he could touch you and you would inform him. It was flattering, in a way, but you were far too distracted to actually take on the gesture in your mind. Instead, you licked your lips. You certainly weren't getting it inside of you, not today. You were horny, but not stupid. Preparation would be necessary, surely, but, it was all you could offer for the time being as he had gotten you off first like a true gentlemen.

Your fingers curled around his base, giving him one solid pump. 

He groaned like an animal, the noise so deep in his chest that it practically made the couch vibrate. It sounded more like a monster than a man. It almost startled you into stopping, but, something about it was so delectable. So primal...Your body suddenly craved more of those noises. More of those movements as his hips softly bucked into your touch. As his head tilted back, breath practically misting through his mask as he continued to bite back those soft sounds you had never expected him to make. Faster, you urged yourself just as you had in the forest, but not too fast this time. Careful. Show him how it felt. Take your time. Show him that it felt good.

That you both could enjoy this.

Your hand moved faster, then slowed as you lowered your mouth towards his cock. He inhaled as you dared lick a long, solid strip from the base to his tip, tasting the salty, mossy precum that permeated through. Not the most pleasant, certainly, but addicting all the same as you felt your tongue go back for more, lapping at the head and swirling your lips around it before enveloping what you could into your mouth, using your hand to cover the rest. You felt his hips buck, sending more into your throat and causing you to gag as tears swelled into your eyes. You went with it though, determined to see your decision through as you felt his tip hit the back of your esophagus. The way he fucked your throat as you helped to urge it on with moans that sent vibrations up his dick made you wet all over again, your free hand finding your pussy and rubbing vigorously at your clit to stimulate your second, more sensitive, orgasm of the night. 

He didn't last long either and you felt his cock throb before it spilled his seed between your lips, the load so heavy that it dripped out of your cheeks around his cock, staining your chin and cheeks as it dribbled outwards. Pulling off of his cock, you licked your lips to gather what you could, as not to make a mess on your couch, before looking on at Jason with wide, curious eyes.

He lay back on the couch, watching you with wide eye and heaving chest, almost curiously as he tilted his head back at you. Reaching out, you touched his thigh this time, mimicking the gesture he offered you as you smiled.

"Did that...feel alright?"

No answer. Worry filled you. An anxiety returning over the high of your orgasms as you remembered who he was. What he has done. Your brain swirled in its own realization, drowning like a soup as the ways he could kill you rushed through your mind as if your life flashed before your eyes. Terror. Worry. Loss. Your stomach twisted itself full of these fears as you felt your breath pick up. You tried not to show it though as you tucked him back into his pants. As he stood up afterwards and watched you with an intimidating silence. You waited longer, your eyes wide at him. Curious. Wanting. Knowing.

He nodded his head.

Yes.

You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding, it devolved into a laugh of delight as you covered your face with your hands and smiled up at him, pleased with yourself and proud of your actions all at once as you gave him a gentle nod and let out a sigh. "I'm glad, then," You murmured as you sat up from the couch as well, reaching out a hand to him. Hesitantly...he took it, gripping your smaller one in his much larger, blood stained grip. His hands were bloody. There was a severed arm in your kitchen. You had almost forgotten about that. You needed to put it in a vase or something. Maybe it would be a nice centerpiece on the table for a while? That sounded good.

Your mind fogged as you followed his movements automatically, moving to the kitchen as he helped you with the dishes the both of you had created. As you worked in silence and sat on the counter afterwards. He leaned forward. You leaned with him, your lips meeting this time in a slow and tender kiss that you didn't get to have before you had brought his hands to your hips. He couldn't kiss you back, but, the grip on your midsection offered all the reassurance you needed to see that he was trying.

You both were.

He left as the sun set, your day together slow but meaningful as you waved goodbye to the being shifting his way cryptodicly through the forest around your home. When he was out of sight you went back in, shut the door, and counted your fingers.

They were all still there.

You were still alive.

Tears fell down your face without your permission, eyes burning with the wetness as the smile on your lips simply wouldn't go away, legs giving out as you sat in the middle of your living room and held your head in your hands for a moment to allow the tears of shock and delight to pass through your system. You didn't...know why you were crying now. What was the point? Perhaps it was because of the hot, heavy thumping in your chest as your heart skipped a beat at the memory of Jason. Of how his fingers filled you so perfectly. Of the look he gave you as he spared your life over taking it away as he did with every trespasser. 

There was something in you, a voice whispered eagerly on the wind. Something others didn't have. Something he liked. You would live because of that, and he would continue to let you.

You could continue as you were.

Perhaps...moving to Crystal Lake was something more than a decision made on a whim. Maybe, you realized in awe as you finally found your way back up from the sitting position you had crumpled down in, there was a purpose to being here other than healing from wounds.

Maybe it was Jason Voorhees himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support I've gotten on this fic so far! You're all so nice ;u; If you like my writing, feel free to check out my imagines blog on tumblr: https://slasherkisss.tumblr.com/!


End file.
